


Concord

by WhyMrSpook



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crew as Family, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt Kirk, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, McSpirk - Freeform, Minor Injuries, POV Alternating, Polyamory, Post-Mission, Protective Bones, Protective Spock, Sleepy Cuddles, Tarsus IV, Threesome - M/M/M, background nyota/rand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: “He’s fighting sleep.” Leonard muttered, in a register Jim probably didn’t have the effort in him to strain to hear. “Distract him, would ya’ Spock?”





	1. Chapter 1

****Spock always felt particularly useless when Jim was in pain, tempted always to alleviate his pain and expressly forbidden. From his own morals, even if the Doctor hadn’t banned him from his ‘Vulcan mind voodoo shit’ unless strictly necessary. As humans went, Jim was very good at hiding his pain. At one time, Spock would have appreciated this. He would have called it an achievement – something to be proud of. For a human, it was a considerable feat. But then he learned the sort of pain that Jim had to endure thus far in his life. Now, Spock knew precisely why his Captain was so talented as persevering under intense pain.  In light of that awareness, the achievement didn’t seem remotely impressive. In fact, since learning the nature of Jim Kirk’s life prior to Starfleet, Spock had observed that witnessing his Captain repress pain actually invoked considerable emotional distress within him. He wished for it to cease, but that would require an absence of James Kirk in his life and so was impossible.

The relief Spock felt when the danger was over, when Jim finally agreed to be accompanied to medbay, was not illogical. But it was certainly thought-provoking. At some point, when Spock was able to give some time to his meditation, he needed to fully address the nature of his feelings towards his partner- both of them, in fact. Both Jim and Leonard had yet to confess love out loud, but Spock had heard it in their heads, felt it from their skin, like a wave. It knocked him over every time he encountered it and he had no defences against it. Perhaps the only thing to do, as Jim would say, was to dive in headfirst. Spock found that Leonard’s metaphors and Jim’s poetry, illogical though they were, made more sense when applied to something quite as illogical as love.

Spock sat beside Jim and dedicated only half his faculties to maintaining his control. The other half was given freely to watching his partner and Captain with a keen gaze. Jim’s fingers were locked around his wrist - thankfully he no longer tried to grab at Spock’s sensitive hands. Still, his grip was going through various degrees of tightness and Spock tracked them along with the look in Jim’s eyes, with his usual level of observation. They seemed the sort of detail that Leonard would ignore, because he _had_ to, as he stood on Jim’s other side and sealed the gashes littering Jim’s skin. Then again, Leonard knew Jim better than anyone. He seemed to recognise their partner’s pain without once averting his gaze from Jim’s wounds.

“He’s fighting sleep.” Leonard muttered, in a register Jim probably didn’t have the effort in him to strain to hear. “Distract him, would ya’ Spock?”

Spock nodded uncertainly, pulling his chair closer to Jim’s bed. Through their touching skin, he projected calm and love. He imagined it to be like the way his mother used to hold him as a small child, before such interactions became unnecessary for him. Jim seemed moderately comforted, eyes going hazy as he fought back the unconsciousness he so desperately needed.

“H’ws Kevin?” Jim asked, and Spock realised then that he expected nothing less of his Captain and partner. Even lying, injured, in med-bay, Jim Kirk would never allow his crew member to suffer the absence of their CMO.

Spock glanced up over Leonard’s shoulder, through the glass to the main ward. Truthfully, the young man looked shell shocked, sat up on his bed. With good reason. It wasn’t every day one’s Captain stepped in the line of fire to protect a single communications officer. They all knew why, of course, but somehow the reason wasn’t remotely consoling. Spock had never understood or accepted friendship bonds before he’d joined the crew of the Enterprise, but Jim had an uncanny ability to form bonds with most anyone. Tarsus IV being one of the most difficult causes Spock had encountered thus far.

“Lieutenant Riley is conscious and recovering.” Spock replied, omitting the ‘shell shocked’ part of his assessment. He had no intention of upsetting Jim, after all. Riley _would_ be fine after his mandatory meeting with the Ship’s counsellor and, perhaps, a chat with his Captain. That would all come later, though, when Jim was safe and rested.

“Good.” Jim murmured. “You should be on the bridge.”

“I am needed here.” Spock replied, glancing at Leonard – their boyfriend’s concentration didn’t waver, but he gave a stiff nod of approval. They were both too used to Jim’s lack of self-esteem, his lack of self-worth – especially at a time of injury. “Mister Scott has the bridge and will hold it until beta shift.” At which point, he could hand over to Mister Sulu. Spock would not incur Leonard’s wrath by departing too soon today. He had no wish to attend to the bridge in any case.

“Okay.” Jim relented, eyes flickering. Spock couldn’t help but think, at times like this, how young Jim was to hold so much responsibility. Jim had _always_ been too young for the responsibilities he’d had to carry out. He’d grown to be an exemplary Captain because of those things, even when he ended up in medbay. Even when he scared Leonard to silence, instead of his usual, comfortable insults. The usual low level animosity was founded purely in concern, even if it had taken Spock a while to figure it out. But silence and concentration, that proved Leonard was shaken.

“Sleep, ashayam.” Spock instructed. “We are right beside you.”

His words seemed unnecessary almost as soon as he’d spoken them, because Jim seemed to have drifted off into sleep instantly. His frown slipped away in sleep, and Jim appeared more peaceful than he’d looked since the last time he’d slept - almost two days before by now. Spock had woken first, for once, and simply watched his lovers curled up together. Jim, spread on the mattress, and their Doctor, heavy in sleep, had stolen his left arm and clung to it tightly, like a hot water bottle. Spock lay on Jim’s other side, and both men seemed to have a hand resting on him somewhere- Jim’s against the location of his heart.

Spock rarely had the opportunity to wake before his lovers, to watch them like this. He saw them most often immediately after sex, sated and tangled limbs before sleep had allowed them to shift to more functional sleeping positions. Unlike his partners, Spock rarely slept immediately after sex. While they drifted off, he got up to meditate, and only returned to bed when the others were deep in sleep. Consequently, he tended to sleep soundly until their alarm. Leonard woke early naturally, even if he remained uncooperative until he had consumed at least one cup of coffee. Jim called him a ‘reluctant morning person’, and the description seemed appropriate. Jim, on the other hand, was a very light sleeper even when he _could_ have enjoyed more rest. Time and circumstance had made him that way, Spock knew. But it did mean that he tended to wake shortly after Leonard, yawning and stretching and cuddling up to Spock to wake him too.

Soon, Spock thought, they would return to that dynamic. It usually occurred that way, when one of them had been injured. As long as he could rely on Leonard not to get angry at Jim and storm off for a few days, Spock calculated a 78.56 percent likelihood they would wind up wrapped up together as soon as Jim had been released and Spock was clear of his duties.

“There.” Leonard murmured, dropping his regenerator. “Done.” He pulled the sheets up from Jim’s waist to his shoulder, pressing a kiss against his temple. Jim’s eyes fluttered lightly, but in testament to his exhaustion he failed to drag himself from sleep. Two days was a long time for humans to go without sleep, Spock reminded himself.

“I can’t get mad at him for this, can I?” Leonard asked quietly, huffing half-heartedly. Why Leonard _wished_ to be mad at Jim, Spock took a moment to contemplate. Jim, he seemed to understand flawlessly. They were an efficient team, both on and off the Bridge. Leonard, Spock always had more trouble with. It seemed ridiculous considering how openly emotional the Doctor was, but it was the simple truth.

“No, I do not believe so.” Spock replied tentatively. His uncertainty must have registered, because Leonard let out a watery laugh.

“Dammit Spock, you’re too sweet darlin’.” Leonard said; rather contradicting, but not unexpected given his usual parameters of communication with Spock. “I mean, this isn’t about the crew. We all know he’d have done that for anyone, but I can’t _make_ it about that. This is about Tarsus. You know it, I know it – Riley knows it, even if he can’t remember it too well.”

“If you were to berate the Captain for his actions on this occasion, you believe he will take the criticism more closely than usual.” Spock continued, understanding now. His _only_ experience with Jim and Tarsus had been the Kodos ordeal and a few nightmares since, but Leonard had known for much longer.

“Exactly.” Leonard sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. He required sleep, but Spock knew it would be a waste of time to advise the Doctor to do so. Leonard might have a nap at his desk, but he wouldn’t return to their quarters until Jim did. “Jesus, Spock, he’d do it again tomorrow, and we can’t ever change that.”

Spock may not have always understood the metaphors and misdirections Leonard engaged him in, but he _had_ learned to trace the not so subtle shifts in his tone. He stood and moved around the bed instantly, in time for Leonard to lean his head against his chest and shudder with a silent sob. He didn’t let it descend into real crying, like Jim when watching old holo-vids with tragic stories, or Leonard on his daughter’s birthday.

“Christ, Spock, I need to sleep myself.” He mumbled in excuse, and Spock simply trailed his hands up his partner’s back in silent comfort. “I’m fine, dammit. Just don’t let me be alone with him when he wakes up. I need you to stop me running my mouth.”

“I have noted, Leonard, that you only tend to ‘run your mouth’ as you say, when stubbornness and single-mindedness has convinced you that you are singularly correct in your arguments, with no room for error. In this case, your self-awareness has already assured me you will do only what is best for Jim when he wakes.”

“You’re a real smooth talker, Mister Spock.” Leonard pulled back from his loose grasp, craning his neck briefly for a kiss. “You going to the bridge?”

“Negative. I intend to write up my mission report now, and then report to the labs. We had agreed to dine with Nyota and Janice prior to the mission, but I will apologise for our absences and instead return here for our evening meal. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Leonard kissed his cheek again. “You’re not so bad, Spock.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Spock moved to the door, quietly appreciating Leonard’s dry humour. If Jim were conscious, he’d have snorted openly. “If Jim does wake before my return, Leonard, I trust you will be able to express your fear without hiding behind unnecessary anger. Jim must not feel punished for protecting a young man he has known since his infancy.”

“I know.” Leonard nodded weakly. “Worst comes to worst, we’ll do PADDs.” Which meant, of course, he’d keep his lips tightly sealed and instead take the time to write how he was feeling instead of hiding behind petty insults. While not necessarily a common system, Jim’s suggestion had done wonders for both Leonard _and_ Spock – who struggled most with expressing their true feelings. Jim, while quiet and steady most of the time, was much better at actually verbalising his emotions when necessary. Leonard hid behind extreme emotions, bursting out of him, and Spock struggled with showing emotion at all. In fact, aside from his private affections in their quarters or behind the tinted glass of Jim’s med-room, Spock endeavoured to not show emotion at all. He was still a Vulcan, after all, and his partners understood this unequivocally.

“A fine solution. I will return this evening, Ashayam.”

“I’ll keep you updated.” Leonard replied, distant once more as he took his seat by Jim’s bed again. Spock didn’t doubt he’d stay there for an hour at least. If Spock was lucky, a concept he was beginning to put more stock in since cohabiting with Leonard and Jim, Leonard would fall asleep right there and not wake until his return. He caught Doctor M’Benga’s gaze, stood beside Lieutenant Riley, as he exited sickbay. The man nodded squarely, eyes flicking back to the Captain’s room. He seemed to appreciate that the Doctor might not emerge for some time, and Spock was sure he wouldn’t disturb them.

As with any mission gone wrong, ship life tended to return to normal within a few hours of their escape. Their crew was most reliable when it came to keeping calm and carrying on, even as their Captain lay in sickbay. With that knowledge in mind, Spock focused on his own calm and logic, and made his way to his post.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never attempted Spones before, let alone McSpirk, so hopefully I get these dynamics right. *fingers crossed*


	2. Chapter 2

Jim looked young when he slept. Not Chekov young, but less burdened. When he was healthy, he generally tended to have rosy cheeks and fluttering eyelashes in his sleep. He was all golden skin and dead weight, occasionally truly dropping his guards an sleeping deeply and soundly against his training to just _wake up_ for fear of danger. Unhealthy, he still looked calmer in sleep. A touch too pale, and a touch too restless, but still far from the image of the man he presented to his superiors. Not the Great Captain Kirk, but _Jim._ And Jim was all theirs.

Leonard watched him for too long, probably, sat beside his bed. It wasn’t fair of him, or on him. Technically he wasn’t on shift, so he had nothing to feel guilty for in leaving M’Benga to his duties, but he wasn’t going to back and sleep either. He should have put himself on shift to help out with the other casualties, but he was too selfish and too tired. Hell, Spock probably wouldn’t even approve the request if he tried, so what was the point. Leonard was just overthinking things, trapped in Jim’s private room. Not trapped, but not really able to leave either. He held Spock’s words in his mind, repeating them as a mantra.

_Express your fear without hiding behind unnecessary anger._

The thing was, he and Spock didn’t always see eye to eye. Leonard never really deemed his anger unnecessary. He’d treated enough idiots, Jim included, to think a bit of anger on his part was more than acceptable. But on this occasion, Spock had a point. Jim had stepped in front of Riley, as he would _any_ member of his crew. The more he told himself that, the less he believed it. Riley meant more to Jim than their boyfriend let on. There was a silent awareness about it whenever the young Lieutenant was mentioned, and Leonard really didn’t know how to approach it. God, did it even need approaching? Riley wouldn’t go anywhere, Jim wouldn’t change, Leonard would still patch Jim up when he got hurt – and Spock would still either protect Jim, or handle the fall out afterwards.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Kid.” Leonard sighed, scratching his chin. Through the observation window, he could see Riley had finally settled into his pillows rather than sitting straight up in defence. His face was still tense, though, and his eyes a fraction too wide. He needed to talk to someone, Leonard knew, and he knew it had to be Jim. In the meantime though, Leonard wasn’t exactly a poor substitute. The Captain might have had personal ties to the kid, but Leonard didn’t get one of his degrees in psyche for nothing.

His legs had stiffened already as he made to stand, a fact he blamed solely on the amount of strain they’d been under the last two days and not age. _I’m not old yet, dammit._ He left Jim’s room without worrying too much – Jim would sleep, he thought, like he had done the last time Tarsus had been dragged up into the forefront of his mind. Long and hard, and then poorly for weeks – like he didn’t deserve to rest. They would cross that bridge when they got to it but, for now, Jim would sleep.

“Lieutenant.” Leonard greeted quietly, and the young man in the bed tensed further, if that were ever possibly, and leaned forward once more.

“Doctor McCoy- How’s the Captain? Can I speak to him?” Hell, if Jim had looked young, it was nothing compared to Riley now. Both trying to sit at attention in a bio-bed, and looking more like a cadet than a fledged Lieutenant. Young eyes and frightened tones never went well together.

“He’s sleeping, Riley, but I’m sure he’ll see you in the morning.” His own tone gentle, Leonard took a seat beside Riley’s bed. “He asked after you before he slept, so you know. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

_Dammit_ , that was supposed to be reassuring, but Riley just looked guilty. Leonard was good at this, normally, but as ever Jim Kirk was able to throw a spanner in the works. He got under people’s skin.

“I don’t remember Tarsus, Sir, not very well.” Riley said then, quietly, but with an air of determination that the rest of his appearance didn’t allude to. The frankness with which he spoke was shocking honestly. He and Spock spoke of it, occasionally, when something in Jim’s behaviour necessitated a plan of action to stop him spiralling downwards – but they only ever discussed it in private. Jim, himself, was tight-lipped when it came to the subject. He gave factual answers to their questions, if they ever dared ask, and he’d allow them to look after him after nightmares or missions with limited access to food, but that was all. Riley, on the other hand, seemed not to fear the subject in the same way. Likely because he couldn’t remember it.

“You were young, Lieutenant.”

“We all were.” Riley shrugged. “I mean, I know the Captain looked after me. I remember him coming and going, and there always being food when he came back- and I remember him _afterwards,_ screaming my name. I thought that was a dream for a long time afterwards, until I made the connection between the Captain and that boy.”

Leonard’s throat felt tight, but he managed a brief nod. He wasn’t betraying Jim’s trust by being a good Doctor to his crew. If Riley needed to get this off his chest, Leonard _had_ to listen.

“What I mean is, he shouldn’t have stepped in front of me. We’re not on Tarsus anymore. He shouldn’t still want to protect me – I’m not six anymore.”

Leonard had lied a lot in his life, to all sorts of people, but he’d always promised himself not to lie to his patients. There was a line that had to be drawn somewhere, and trust depended on truth. It was one of the rules he, Spock and Jim had founded their relationship on. They would always be honest with each other. It had worked pretty well so far. But this was different. It had to be, just as surely as Jim _had_ gone above and beyond for Riley.

“Captain Kirk is many things, Lieutenant, but he isn’t known for favouritism. It’s bred into him to protect people, Mister Riley. You could have been me, Mister Spock or that blonde you went to the Christmas party with.” Leonard shrugged. “He still would have jumped in front of you if he was given the chance.” It probably wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough.

“Really?” God dammit, Riley sounded hopeful.

“Yes, as much as I hate him for it. Besides, if you’d been hit who would take over from Mister Sulu now that shift is nearly over?” Leonard grinned at the realisation dawning on Riley’s face. “Like I said- Kirk is many things. Tactical genius being one of them. You’re fine, and he’ll be out of here by tonight. Let’s call this a success and move on with our lives.”

“Yes, Sir.” Riley smiled hesitantly. “Understood.”

“Good man. Now, are you up to a bridge shift, Lieutenant? Or shall I call Doctor M’Benga over?”

“No need, Sir. I’m more than willing to help out, where I can. It’s the least I can do.” The young man twisted, so his legs were dangling over the side of the bed. “Thank you, Doctor McCoy.”

“No problem, Kid.” Leonard switched off the bio-bed for a moment, preparing for Riley’s departure. The last thing they needed was an emergency team for an apparently dead Lieutenant. “You know where I am if you need me.”

“Your Office, Sir?” Riley hopped off the bed, at which point Leonard stood and stretched leisurely.

“Nah. Right in this bed – dammit, I’m not sleeping at my desk again.” He rolled onto Riley’s vacated bio-bed, which resumed its steady beeping as it accustomed itself to Leonard’s lifeform. “Go on, get lost. I’m exhausted.”

The sound of Riley’s young laughter was rewarding, short of shocked and awed but certainly impressed at how Leonard had manipulated the situation. “Right. See you later, Doc.”

Leonard didn’t reply. The moment his head hit the pillow, his tiredness really made itself known in his bones, and his limbs suddenly felt stupidly heavy. The only thing missing was the warmth of Jim to cuddle in to – or Spock, trailing fingers up his skin absently, despite the action being anything but absent for those sensitive fingers. The warmth of the bio-bed was a poor substitute for his lovers, but not enough to discourage him from sleep. Despite the low voices of sickbay, and M’Benga’s presence somewhere, Leonard let his eyes close. Within seconds, he was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Jim woke to a hand in his, slender and familiar, fingers pressing in certain points that let him know immediately that these were not the steadiest hands in the ‘fleet, but his First Officer’s. Spock greeted him into consciousness with a human kiss, pressed against his cheek, as well as his Vulcan one.

“Sp’ck.” He murmured, stretching his back out for a moment. He could feel the tightness of his repaired skin, and the tell-tale ache of having been under a regenerator for too long. Other than that, he felt fine. Good, even, considering he’d just taken the brunt of some sort of scatter weapon. “Time is it?”

“Nearing 1800 hours, Captain.”

“Jesus, I didn’t think I’d sleep for that long.” He’d struggle later, when they really _did_ need to sleep. Especially if he wanted to make it to the bridge on time in the morning. Then again, he probably had a fuck ton of paperwork to do. He could always make a start on that, and at some point try and work out how to explain to the admiralty that he stepped in the line of fire for a Lieutenant without them realising _why_ and reassigning Riley.

“You required that, and more.” Spock said steadfastly.

“Sure. Where’s Bones?”

“Also sleeping.”

Jim followed Spock’s gaze through the observation window, and could just about see Leonard curled up on one of the bio-beds there. Their boyfriend looked exhausted and tense, even in sleep, wrapped so tightly in himself that he’d probably ache to hell when he unfolded himself. Maybe M’Benga had a hypo for that.

“Poor baby. Where’s Lieutenant Riley?” Jim fought back the threat of a blush; his rampant humiliation that he was still emotionally compromised by events he'd spent most of his adult life trying to forget.  _Lieutenant Riley_ was a fine officer, and worth his Captain's protection. But it was  _Kevin. Little_ Kevin, who was worth Jim's life. 

“Discharged, and now on the bridge, Captain.” Spock let go of his hand, helping him shift his backrest into a more reasonable position and then shuffling his pillows behind him. “I did stop in to oversee the changeover period between shifts. Mister Sulu is now holding the bridge.”

“Good. He’ll hate it, but he needs the practice if he wants a promotion one day.” Besides, Jim could blame it on Leonard and Spock when Hikaru came moaning to him that it was time he could have spent much better at the helm, or in the botany labs. Jim got off scot free, as per. He fought back a lazy grin, to Spock’s obvious confusion.

“Indeed. I have acquired supper, Jim. I will wake Leonard.”

“No- let me.”

“Jim…”

“C’mon, we both know he’s pissed at me.” Jim shrugged, as if he didn’t care. Spock could see right through him, of course, but the point remained. He had to face the consequences sooner or later, and Bones needed to eat. Whether he did so with Spock and Jim, or stalked off to terrorise the mess, was his choice.

“I would not choose that phrases specifically this time.” Spock countered quietly, and Jim stared at him. It wasn’t often Jim was shocked, but Spock _understanding_ something about Leonard’s turbulent emotions was uncommon. Well, about as uncommon as Jim royally fucking up to upset them both disastrously.  “Leonard will not lecture you on this occasion, because we are both aware of the underlying cause for your action. You did no less or more than we expected of you, and we will not hold you responsible for your actions.”

Jim swallowed and looked away, back to Leonard’s sleeping form in the other room. “I don’t have a death wish, you know. I just saw him and he looked so scared, and I just _moved._ I really didn’t think about it.”

“Evidently.” Spock kissed his cheek again, as if assuring him he truly wasn’t mad. Jim wasn’t sure he’d feel the same way when the nightmares came back. When he was dry heaving in their bed in the early hours of the morning, not eating and hiding food. They’d always dealt with it before, but it couldn’t go on forever. At some point, they’d get tired of him. “Go and wake Leonard, before the soup cools to an unsatisfactory temperature.”

“Yes, Sir.” Jim attempted a wink and lazy grin, but his insecurities triumphed and he ended up just slipping out the room.

Leonard looked slightly better up close. Yes, tense and tired, but it was hard to deny the steady rise and fall of his chest- and how he held his pillow as tightly as he would Jim in the night. He was fine, then. Jim’s bare feet padded on the cool floor until he reached Leonard’s head, and then he brushed a hand into his dark fringe.

“Rise and shine, gorgeous.”

Bones woke slowly, eyes stubbornly closed until he was fully aware of the hand in his hair and the breath against his cheek. Jim stayed close, watching the twitching of his eye lids and the way he smacked his lips together a few times before finally opening his eyes and taking in the dim light of medbay. He looked like he needed a good cup of coffee, as he always did after sleeping, but there was none of his usual angry reluctance at getting up in the morning.

“Hey there sleepy.” Jim murmured, smiling to himself as Bones groaned deeply and dropped his head back against his pillow. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Fuck- could’a slept through till morning.” Bones raised a hand to his face, scrubbing it tiredly. “How’re you feeling, darlin’?”

“I’m good, Bones.” He laughed. “Hungry.”

“Makes a change.” Bones teased, but his tone wasn’t quite convincing enough. Still laced with concern and tiredness, as if even hours of sleep hadn’t put enough distance between him and the debacle down on the planet – Jim’s injury. “C’mon then - But I’m not eating plomeek, dammit.” He grumbled, sounding moderately more like himself. It wasn’t enough- not for Jim. It was hard, god it was hard, but sometimes he had to force himself to communicate. The problem was, really, they were all as bad as each other. They could all keep their mouths shut until they didn’t speak at all, and it could take up to weeks for them to resolve anything.

“Bones, I’m really sorry.” The words came out easier than he imagined they would. “I could have pushed Riley out of the way. I could have dragged him down, and I didn’t. I don’t expect you to be okay with that.” Although he hoped his boyfriend wouldn’t make him suffer for it. “I know Spock’s pissed, even if he won’t say. I’m not supposed to risk my life for a lieutenant, I know that. Hell, the admiralty is going to wring me out for this but-”

“Jim, stop talking.”

Jim’s lips fell closed in spite of himself, and he stood back from the bed, staring at the floor as Bones stood.

“If you hadn’t stood in front of Riley, you wouldn’t be Jim Kirk. Not the Captain with his responsibilities to the ship; not all that crap that Spock will not-so-subtly remind you of soon – but the man.” Jim looked up sharply, ears sort of ringing. Bones just shrugged, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “I fell in love with _you,_ Jim. Even if it scares the crap out of me.”

There wasn’t much else to do but lean in and steal a kiss. Jim handed himself over with the action, all of his gratitude and relief. Chaste, in the not private enough medbay, but meaningful. They broke apart too soon, and Jim rested his forehead against Bones’- a luxury Spock’s height didn’t afford them.

“You need to eat, Kid. We’ll talk more later.” Bones said, an obvious promise that Jim couldn’t exactly get out of. He nodded apprehensively, before Bones wrapped his arms’ around him and led him back through to Spock. He made an active effort then, to wipe the whole incident from his mind for a little bit, until he _had_ to face it again. It didn’t matter that they were sat in sickbay, eating _poorly_ food – they did that far too often anyway. Jim just wanted to eat with his two wonderful partners, and then get his final check and get discharged back to their quarters. Anything beyond that point could be dealt with as and when it occurred.

Spock looked peaceful when they re-entered the room, sat patiently on the chair beside Jim’s bed. Jim would have guessed he’d taken the time to focus his shields for a moment, if he wasn’t so convinced that their boyfriend had been listening to their conversation. As if he’d heard Jim’s thoughts, Spock’s expression turned slightly challenging. He quirked an eyebrow, his gaze tracking Bones to the bed.

“I hope you enjoy plomeek, Doctor.” He said, a fraction too innocently, and swiftly dodged when Bones lobbed a pillow in his direction. Jim grinned, grateful to get to sit back down again – and more grateful for his boyfriends. Jesus, it was hard to wallow when they were there to distract him. Even if it was only for the time being.


	4. Chapter 4

Spock was a good diplomat when he needed to be. He’d grown up with an Ambassador for a father, of course. He understood compromise, and the necessity of sacrifice. He could mediate between arguments of crewmen, and make educated decisions for the issues that fell under his specific command on the Enterprise. He wasn’t quite so skilled when it came to arguments he was directly involved in. He had avoided his own father for years rather than attempt to reconcile their differences, going directly against a moral that guided his entire existence- something Jim would surely never understand, so keen to always have Spock embrace his differences. His individuality.

He was _glad_ that Leonard had not picked a fight immediately with Jim for his recklessness in risking his own health, if not his life, for one lieutenant. He had played his own part in convincing their partner not to give in to immediate anger. Yet now, hours later, curled up beside them both, Spock found he could not let the issue go quite so easily. They were all safe, and that should have been enough. Jim had proven himself of satisfactory health during their shared dinner of soup – a little quieter than usual, making an average of 34% fewer quips – but smiling nonetheless. Leonard had carried much of the conversation, and then turned almost professional in his efforts to get Jim showered and into bed. Spock had joined them instantly, laying on Jim’s right side and holding his hand to his chest until he was certain both humans had drifted off. He knew sleep would evade him tonight. Where both Leonard and Jim had slept all day and would sleep all night too, Spock could go another few days without respite. If necessary. He didn’t think it would come to that, but for tonight it was a fact he had no choice but to accept as he attempted to deal with his conflicting emotions.

It was nearly 0200 hours before he felt confident enough that slipping out of bed would not wake either of his lovers. They looked quite content, wrapped up in each other. That was, after all, a time tested way of alleviating any anger from Leonard McCoy. The Doctor was what Jim called ‘a cuddler’, and so feeling Jim close to him, feeling his heartbeat, was enough to appease him. Spock sympathised, to an extent; a heartbeat was a poor substitute for a formalised bond. After all, Jim’s own heart had stopped half a dozen times since they’d first met. Only once had Spock ever believed it to be permanent.

Jim stirred slightly when Spock moved quietly from the mattress. He brought his knees up to his chest in a way that looked most uncomfortable for a grown man; probably a learned behaviour from Tarsus or, somehow worse, cold nights in his family home. It was perhaps a testament to the nurturing attitude of his own mother, but Spock couldn’t imagine feeling unwelcome in his own home. There was conflict, always, but it never remotely compared to the rest of Vulcan – where his mother _could not_ be there to protect him. But in their grand, ambassadorial home, Amanda had always gone to every effort to ensure he had every option available to him. And, above all, a proud mother. The arguments with his father came later, and though difficult, Spock couldn’t help but feel they were nothing in comparison to the hardships that Jim had gone through.

Meditation seemed unlikely, but Spock attempted it anyway. It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand his own emotions or, indeed, that he couldn’t utilise his logic against them. It had been his idea to prevent an argument with Jim, and his idea to allow both his partners to obtain rest before discussing the issue in a calm, mature manner. That was logical. Neither of them would benefit from a rash, heated argument. And yet his turmoil was such that he could not calm himself enough to sleep. It was more than just the image of Jim, sleep-deprived and bleeding – Spock had seen that countless times. It was more that, in sacrificing himself for Lieutenant Riley, Jim had served them all a very inescapable reminder of Tarsus. Creativity and imagination, in a non-hypothesising scenario, were not Spock’s strong suits. But Tarsus was uniquely disturbing. Images of a blonde haired child, frail and thin, with those too-bright blue eyes, assaulted him.

Spock really needed to leave for his own quarters - enter a deeper meditation, with his incense – where he wouldn’t disturb Leonard and Jim. And yet, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to physically depart. He stood from his meditation mat, observing his partners again. Leonard was holding his pillow tightly, wound in a position he could not normally move into with the three of them sharing the bed. Spock’s jaw tensed fractionally when he realised Jim’s eyes were open, and the Captain was just staring at Leonard’s finally peaceful face.

“Are you coming or going, Spock?” Jim asked softly, twisting his head to look up at Spock. He required many more hours of sleep- and yet Jim, defying all odds as ever, was wide-eyed. There had been no nightmare as far as Spock could tell- or they would all be awake, most likely. Jim _was_ a light sleeper, but Spock was well practiced in staying quiet when he moved around their room at night.

“I do not know.” He admitted. If there was one thing he was certain of Jim’s character, it was that Jim would never make him feel guilty for indecisiveness, for needing time. In fact, he assured Spock of that fact an average of 3.4 times per Terran month.

Jim wrestled himself from Leonard’s heavy grip, sitting up against the headboard. “What’s wrong?”

“I find myself disturbed by the notion of your time on Tarsus, Jim. Meditation has helped.” He lied. “I did not wish to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” Jim replied seamlessly, shrugging in the dark. “I’m just not used to this much sleep, I guess. And it’s not like I had some mind-numbing orgasm to knock me out.” He laughed, and then fell abruptly silent when Leonard snored softly beside him. When he continued, it was at a volume decreased by approximately 40 percent. “Like either of you will touch me until I’ve convinced you I’m not about to breakdown.”

“Jim…” Spock moved closer to the bed, his desire to comfort his lover almost overwhelming. “You convinced me of your strength long ago. While I am concerned by the position you would have left the ship in should you have perished on the planet, I am also aware that it is not my place to question your actions. We both await the transmission from Admiral Pike tomorrow.” Spock sat tentatively on the edge of the bed. “And yet I am unsure of how to proceed. I wish to move on from this, as we have done before, and still I am unable to settle.”

“It happens.” Jim said softly, reaching out a hand to take Spock’s. Jim had picked up Vulcan kissing instinctively, and his actions now were both immensely comforting and skilled. “I’m bad at this too, Spock, but we’re trying. Aren’t we?” He didn’t wait for a reply, staring at their entwined hands. “I knew you were worked up about this, but I didn’t realise it was this bad.”

“Jim, I-”

“You don’t need to make excuses.” Jim told him firmly, raising their hands to his mouth and kissing the back of Spock’s hand. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the late hour, the tense atmosphere in their quarters even as their lover continued to softly snore beside them. “You can be mad at me. Or at the world, for making me like this.” He didn’t laugh this time, though the quip was clearly an attempt at lightening the mood. Spock recognised this, but failed to grasp it’s actual effect. “But if it weren’t for Tarsus, I wouldn’t be on this ship. I wouldn’t be Captain Kirk, and I wouldn’t have you. So no matter how much crap like this makes you freak out, you’ve gotta know that we’re all stronger for it.”

“Hear hear.” Leonard said suddenly, his voice deep and scratchy from sleep. When he had stopped snoring, Spock couldn’t say. His attentions had been entirely on Jim and his impassioned speech. It was hard to hold onto negativity when Jim was so warm and his smile, so inviting. “Now, can you both lie down? Don’t wanna sleep without you.”

“As you wish, Leonard.” Spock replied for the both of them, a statement he hoped indicated his own reassured nature. Were he not feeling better, he would have excused himself to work or attempt meditation. As Jim had managed to dissuade him from leaving in his own _human_ way, Spock instead made to shuffle up the mattress.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Jim’s hands left his, holding at his arm instead. “In the middle, mister. Bones, would you cuddle Lieutenant Commander Independent, please?” Spock had little say in the matter, as he allowed Jim to shove him lightly to the centre of the mattress. It spoke volumes because it was not _normal._ After an unsuccessful mission or injury, the hurt party always slept in the middle. It was a flawless system that had served each of them well on several occasions thus far. It was where Jim _had_ lay, before their early morning conversation. Spock didn’t deserve to be cushioned by both of his partners when Jim was the one still recuperating, but neither of them seemed to care.

“Spock, ‘m sorry.” Bones murmured, twisting under Spock’s arm and curling his arm around Spock’s _stomach._ “Was so worried about Jim; Didn’t stop to think about _you.”_

“I was not in need of immediate assistance, Leonard. Do not blame yourself.”

“What he said.” Jim agreed, finally settling on Spock’s other side and fighting Leonard briefly for a firm grasp around Spock’s stomach. The warmth of both their embraces was not taken lightly, and Spock found himself achieving an immediate calm on par with a quite successful meditative trance. His lovers had that effect on him even without, as Jim said, a ‘mind-numbing orgasm to knock him out’. More impressively, Spock was in no drastic need to meld with his partners. The bond he shared with them was steady and comforting – melding was more of a delightful treat, especially with Leonard being so reluctant, than a necessity for compatibility.

“Yeah, yeah.” Leonard grumbled, shuffling, and then his lips were pressed against Spock’s ribs, his teeth scraping lightly against a bone without any urgency. “I’m a Doctor, not to mention your partner. It’s my _job_ to notice.”

“He is a Vulcan, Bones. He sort of aims to hide his emotions, remember?” Spock almost smiles in the dark, at that classically human description of his species. Jim was so predictable in some aspects, and so preposterously wild in others. Spock didn’t need his eyes open to know Jim was stroking Leonard’s hand with his thumb, his own tried and tested manner of appeasing the Doctor.

“Yeah darlin’, I know.” Leonard said, but Spock’s sensitive ears confirmed the Doctor still required convincing. He tightened his hold around him, and he manoeuvred to press a kiss against his hair. In response, Jim reached across his chest to kiss his lover, then moving up to kiss Spock too.

“Now sleep, both of you. Or I’ll fetch my hypos.” Leonard threatened, and Spock let his head sink into the pillow.

“Yes, Ashayam.”

“Yeah, what he said.” Jim said once again, his voice thick with exhaustion. Spock felt a sense of amusement from Jim’s tiredness, against his earlier vow that he was too well rested. Jim would say or do far too much to appease them, if he thought they needed him. It was a curious habit. Intrinsically human- Leonard possessed the same qualities. But then, Spock reflected on his own actions that day, and surmised it would be hypocritical to suggest he was unlike his lovers in this respect. There was very little he would not say or do for either of them.

Calmer, now, and satisfied that this incident would blow over as all others did – through Leonard’s determined control over the aftermath and Jim’s stubborn insistence that he was strong enough – Spock allowed his controls to loosen and finally welcomed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have more triumvirate ideas, but that's it for this little quartet.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come say hello on [Tumblr](http://why-mr-spook.tumblr.com/) if you like?


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